Writing on the Wall
by Nakimochiku
Summary: lies, he screamed, but still the writing would not disappear. Hichi x Ichi, oneshot, slight insanity


Writing on the Walls

He kept his eyes tightly shut against the night. Against the truth. He didn't want to see it. It was the truth. But he had to believe that all of it was lies. Every last blood red letter. He had to hold it firm in his heart that it was a lie. So he shut his eyes tight and listen to the sound of scratching as his hollow write more lies on his walls. They would never disappear, no matter how hard he scrubbed at the ink that was too much like blood. Lies, lies lies!

"**I wrote 'em all fer ya King, so ya'd remember who ya are. It's wha' I found in yer heart."**

"Liar!" he hissed, turning in the direction of the voice, but never opening his eyes. If he read the lies, he would believe them. And they would become real, and consume him. He could feel the hollow watching him, laughing at him, daring him to open his eyes and read one of those awful lies.

So he took the dare. He peeled open his eyelids, glancing passed a grinning face. Lips pressed themselves to his forehead. His eyes roamed over the bloodied walls till he found one for him to read. It was dated June ninth. He touched me again tonight, and I couldn't get enough of it. He scowled at the words, as if trying to burn holes through the wall. "Lies." he whispered, and rolled over to sleep.

"**Whatever ya say King."**

He could feel the hollow just there. He couldn't sleep with those eyes roaming up and down his body, those hands stroking, strangely warm. He didn't want to feel this way.

He wished the writing would disappear.

"**Look. I'm writin' somethin' else!"**

He could tell the hollow was writing, more lies. And he was stupid enough to open his eyes, stupid enough to believe this stupidity was anything but. He read the words over and over. I want him again. I want him to go farther.

"Lies!" he screamed, covering his ears. But he could still hear the hollow's laughter. "Just dirty lies you're trying to convince me with! I'm not like that!" he felt the hollow straddle his stomach, struggling to buck the hollow off.

"**So ya say King. But yer heart's a dark place. An' ya let yer demons crawl 'bout an' show ya yer true self."**

"The only demon I have is you." he squirmed, but succeeded in doing nothing. The hollow crushed their lips together, cold claws gently scraping his face, holding his head still. His mouth went slack, letting the hollow's tongue inside. He bit the muscle, but got only a low primal growl of pleasure. He crushed the heat in his stomach that lighted at the sound. This was a lie. He did not want this.

He did not want his hollow to push him down, tear off his clothes, take him roughly, let him bleed, and then do it again. He did not want it, because it would be wrong in so many ways. He could not believe the words on the walls. He did not want to face it, it was like a disgusting medicine he could not swallow. The truth. Lies.

"Lies." he whsipered. "Lies, lies, lies." he was trapped in this. No matter how hard he wished, how hard he scrubbed, or how long he closed his eyes, it would still be there. The writing on the walls, shouting the truth that he didn't want to listen to, right in his ear."Liar, lies, filthy lies!"

"**But it's not a lie, King. It's who ya are, wha' ya want. I wrote it down so ya can see."**

His arm lashed out in an attempt to hit the hollow. He wanted to vent this frustration, wanting to show his hollow exactly what was going on in his mind. It was nothing but violent bloody thoughts that included the hollow screaming, maimed. But his hand was caught, and a smirk lit itself on pale lips as the hollow brought his hand to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the back.

"**Would ya like ta see the new secrets I found?"**

He thrashed from side to side. When would he escape? If he saw just one more lie, surely, he would break. He couldn't stand to think what would happen to him then. He'd probably let the hollow do what he wanted. "Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies. Tainted demon!" he repeated. It never seemed to have the effect that he wanted. He could feel that grin as soft lips pressed against his eye lids. Look, the hollow said without speaking. Look.

He must be a masochistic. He read some of the new lies, ans shut his eyes again. But he could still feel it. There. Waiting for him. He wanted to scream out his frustration so that all of this pent of energy would be expelled from him. Whore the writing whispered. You're a whore.

"Can't you at least show me the good things?" the hollow only smiled at his pathetic efforts, kissing him forehead, lips, jaw line.

"**Sorry king, but I wan' ta show ya."**

This truth would suffocate him, bind him, leave him for dead in nightmares that showed him who and what he was. He didn't want to know. He blinded himself from this all. The truth left him floundering in the dark with only the hollow to save him because everyone else thought he was too much of a liar. The truth was gross, had to be avoided at all costs, had to be maimed and kill so he could fall asleep at night with no weight on his chest. But of course the hollow wouldn't let that happen.

He didn't care if this felt good or not. He didn't care if he was lying through his teeth. He didn't care if the world ended because of this lie, and he definitely didn't care that he was denying himself wonderful pleasure. But of course, the writing on the walls told him other wise.

He couldn't escape it, cause no one else could see it. No one else knew. Red ink, marker, blood? He didn't know. But sometimes, when he was in between dreaming and waking, and forgot that he should keep his eyes closed, he swore he saw the hollow dipping his fingers into a puddle of his own blood and dragging it on the walls. The scent of it reeked with death.

He waited, waited for it to disappear while he held onto the hollow, kissed him, screamed for him. He waited. Waited for the words to stop yelling at him what he already knew. He waited for the hollow to stop smiling at him, stop making his resolve slip with each sinful touch. He wanted to scream. Just so the hollow would understand that he didn't want this. Everything on the walls were lies. But he knew the hollow would just smile and kiss him again.

He read another, filling his time as the hollow scratched out more lies. June nineteenth, I want him inside me again, it feels so good. He bit his lip, scowling as his body ached from too many rounds of sex. Or maybe his body was aching for the hollow's touch. He closed his ears as the hollow read out more. He wanted to be deaf to what he chose.

He didn't like these sick fantasies, this burning desire, this hopeless need. But he found the hollow writing out more lies on the far blank wall. But the lies were different, deeper, stronger, angrier. I'll eat you and watch you bleed. I'll taste the fear controlling you, and make sure you know why you're afraid. These lies couldn't be his lies. They weren't even close to his truths.

I'll lick up you blood, make you scream. You will never think of anyone but me. The hollow grinned as he read them, his eyes flashing slightly as they kissed.

"**These are my truths."**

The hollow filled up that wall with morbid thoughts that made his blood curdled but got him excited at the same time. How disgusting that the kinds of things the hollow wanted, he wanted as well. He could try to fool him self that the writing on the walls really was only the hollow, but knew without being told that it was foolish.

When the space on the walls filled completely, the writing appeared on his skin. The hollow traced lines, and words, and the writing was there, searing him, branding him with his truth. But this wasn't his truth, because it was still horribly morbid, and the hollow grinned in a lecherous way whenever he was marking him.

I'll rape you. I'll take your soul. Make you mine, devour you and drive you insane with pleasure. These weren't his sickening lies. He knew it wasn't. But whenever he tried to assure the hollow of this, he just grinned and kissed away his worries.

"Lies!" he screamed. "This is not my heart, it's not!" the hollow gently stroked the word rape repeatedly, smiling a soft strange smile.

"**Yer righ' king. It's mine. An' it's 'bout time I see the truth."**

OWARI

_killed myself writing that. It must be horribly boring. I rewrote it more than 5 times, and I'm still not satisfied with it. In fact, I hate it. But review anyway!_


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